


I didn't mean to fall in love tonight

by reindeersidecar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeersidecar/pseuds/reindeersidecar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, quick piece about the two having to share a room during an argument.</p><p>EDIT: I added a second part!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Fareeha knew that Angela was used to making tough calls.

It was part of her job description. Every incision, every needle, every wayward resurrection—these all were trying decisions only she had the discipline and years of experience to make. Many of those decisions—more than the doctor cared to admit—kept her up at night.

Fareeha was certain Angela had never slept more soundly than she had making the choice to keep Ana’s status hidden. The old woman—bless her soul—was alive. She’d told Angela as much, anyhow, in a letter, of all old-fashioned things. She’d wanted the doctor to break the news to Fareeha, to soothe the impact for when she’d miraculously turn up one day at the front doors of headquarters. She’d instructed Angela to choose the right time, a precise moment.

Apparently, no such moment existed in Angela’s mind.

“How could you not tell me?” Fareeha whispered standing in Angela’s doorway. Her body trembled with barely contained rage. She wasn’t one to shout. She didn’t inherit her mother’s temper. She was slow to anger, docile about most things, especially when it came to the sweet Dr. Ziegler.

Angela stood by her bed with her arms crossed, looking at Fareeha like she _pitied_ her, and Fareeha swore she’d never thought such unkind things about the doctor in her life. “Fareeha, she doesn’t have the right to just drop off the radar, and turn up again whenever she pleases to disturb your life.”

“And what gives _you_ the right to hide this?” Fareeha retorted, her voice raising an octave. Angela staggered back. Fareeha regretted her tone immediately, feeling as though she were a lion or a bear, perhaps, pouncing on a wounded doe. “I shouldn’t talk to you right now.”

“Fareeha, wait,” Angela murmured.

“I need some space, Angela,” she said, and she stormed out of the room.

***

She asked for space but was given none. What were the odds that on their mission in Versailles they were expected to share a bed in a cramped motel room?

This wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, of course. They’d done so many times over. It was always pleasant, really.  Angela enjoyed a little light reading before bed (her definition of light being a 200-page dissertation on the latest in nanotechnology), and the tiny, rhythmic tap of her nail as she scrolled always lulled Fareeha to sleep.

It didn’t hurt, either, that she found the doctor very attractive and had since she’d been a young girl. But that didn’t so much put Fareeha to sleep as it did keep her wide awake, painfully aware of Angela’s soft sighs and the accidental brush of her smooth legs against her own. Fareeha would always scoot her body as far to the edge of the bed as possible, wanting sleep to take her desperately but delighting in the soft thrill of temptation. But Angela was a professional—she wouldn’t jeopardize her job or the mission for some silly dalliance in a motel room. And was she even _interested_ , Fareeha had always wondered.

Tonight, she didn’t care either way. She wanted to sleep if only to be blissfully unaware of the woman in the room with her.

Angela stripped into her slip right in front of her, as she always had. Usually Fareeha would turn away, blushing like a fool, but today she didn’t flatter the doctor with any such reaction. She instead willfully flung off her own clothes, leaving her in nothing but her shorts and a sports bra.

Several times Angela had attempted conversation this evening, only to be met with Fareeha’s quiet anger. Fareeha _knew_ this was not the mature thing to do, that she was an adult and should confront Angela like one, but she feared the words that would erupt from her mouth, that she may not be able to stop them once she’d begun. The sting they’d leave once they’d been uttered.

Fareeha lay on her side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Once Angela had finished rummaging through her luggage, she gathered her pillows and the spare blanket to sleep on the floor.

Fareeha sighed. The doctor had numerous back problems, likely from her poor posture of being slumped over her work late into the night. Although her mother _swore_ by sleeping on the floor and the wonders it did for your back, Fareeha wouldn’t feel right making Angela sleep on the ground.  “You can sleep up here.”

Angela’s crown of blonde hair poked up from the other side of the bed. “Are you positive?”

“Yes.”

Angela stood up and replaced her pillows before hesitantly sliding under the covers with her. Fareeha rolled away, onto her shoulder.

“Fareeha.”

“Naam?” The word was strained in her throat.

“Should I turn the light off?”

Fareeha glanced at the nightstand beside her head, realizing the lamp was the only thing illuminating the tight, clammy room.  “Sorry.” She flicked the switch.

She listened to Angela settle under the blanket, the soft scuffling of fabric, her tired sighs. She apologized when her foot accidentally brushed Fareeha’s leg. It all went quiet then. Fareeha was sure she would hear the small whirr of Angela’s breath in a few moments—

“I’m sorry.”

Fareeha squeezed her eyes shut and felt her anger rekindled. “Let’s not talk about this right now.” She said the words through her teeth. They had to sleep. There was an objective they had to take care of bright and early tomorrow.

“Sorry, yes, another time.”

Then, after a few minutes, “Fareeha.”

Fareeha flipped onto her in an instant. She straddled the doctor’s lap, wrists pinned beneath her rough hands. “What?” she demanded in a harsh breath. “What do you want?”

When her vision adjusted, she could see Angela staring up at her in the blackness, lips slightly parted, blue eyes barely widened, and _dammit,_ was she _blushing?_ Fareeha was suddenly made very aware of the soft, wide curves of the doctor’s hips nestled between her bare thighs, their lips a scant breadth apart.

Angela’s eyes darted to her mouth before meeting her gaze. She didn’t say anything. She simply lay there, as if waiting for Fareeha to decide what it was the doctor could possibly want.

Angela was the one that was good at making tough calls. Not Fareeha.

Fareeha slid off of her and collapsed into the mattress, heart pounding wildly. “Go to bed.”

It was an hour before she heard Angela’s breath even out, and two hours after that before she herself fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part two, thanks for the support!! You're all wonderful!

She and Angela waited in the living room of a rundown apartment, abandoned in the warzone. She’d issued a command over the comms for the rest of the team to regroup here after an explosion had dispersed them. The wait had her on edge, in part due to threat of Talon still lingering near, but mostly because the silence that hung between her and Angela was stifling and unbearable.

Fareeha slumped down the wall in Raptora, lifting some of the stained, peeling wallpaper as she sat. She tucked her helmet against her hip. Angela had taken a perch on the small dining room table, feet kicking freely as she gazed out the window, the only source of light in the dark, musty apartment, all the other windows having been boarded up. Angela was illuminated in the daylight, her halo glistening, her hair soft and glowing like the sun peeking out behind the edge of a cloud.

She must have felt Fareeha’s eyes on her for she turned her head slightly. Fareeha looked away, knowing fully well their gazes had met in that brief second.

“Fareeha,” she sighed her name. “I need to explain myself.”

Fareeha massaged her temple. “Angela, this isn’t the time—”

“Let me talk.” Angela’s words were harshened by her accent.

Fareeha pursed her lips. She knew better than to make the woman angry. The one time she had, it had been over a broken rib she’d neglected to report to the doctor. When she’d discovered it, Fareeha had gotten her ear talked off for hours and days thereafter.

“I know, this doesn’t excuse what I did,” Angela began in a wavering voice, “but I need you to understand _why_ I did it.”

Fareeha spoke hoarsely, “I’m listening.”

Angela inhaled deeply. “My parents, they were MIA, just like Ana is—was,” Fareeha sat up at the mention of the doctor’s parents. Of course she’d known that they’d died when Angela had been a child, but Fareeha hardly ever thought about what the doctor had been like as a little girl. It had always felt to Fareeha like Angela Ziegler had not existed before they’d met, that she’d come into being at seventeen, already a full-fledged doctor.

“I thought they’d died, much like you had thought your mother had. I was bereft. I locked myself in my room. I missed weeks of school,” she whispered. “Then, one day, I received a letter, too, from them, telling me that they were alive, that they were coming home.” Angela wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “I was so overjoyed, Fareeha, like you wouldn’t believe. I clutched that letter to my chest every night while I slept, knowing that every morning I woke up would be one less morning before I saw them again.”

Fareeha felt her throat close up hearing the emotion in Angela’s voice. In her anger, she’d forgotten that Angela was not truly the cold, calculating doctor she often showed herself to be. She was, in fact, one of the sweetest, most compassionate people Fareeha had ever had the gift of knowing.

“Then I received another letter,” Angela murmured, gazing out the window again, and the words almost seemed to thud in the quiet that followed. The doctor took a large breath, the muscle in her jaw tense. “My parents had been killed by a roadside explosive, enroute to Switzerland, to me.” She swallowed what sounded like a small sob. “It hurt all the more, I think, because I’d lost them twice.”

Fareeha shut her eyes and sank into the wall. “Angela…”

The doctor kept her eyes ahead. “I know I shouldn’t have projected my experience onto yours,” she whispered, “but I didn’t want you to get hurt, Fareeha. Not the way I’d been hurt.” She turned to Fareeha again. “I’m so sorry for what I did.” She offered a sheepish smile with a shrug and a soft flutter of her wings. “I’m happy to have at least been proven wrong.”

Fareeha smiled sadly. “Yes, I am, too.” She was grateful her story had not ended like Angela’s, indebted to whatever higher power had brought her mother home to her.

She stood from her seat against the wall and strode over to where Angela was perched on the table. She touched one giant metal gauntlet to the doctor’s small knee. “I accept your apology, Angela.” She swallowed, and added, “And I’m sorry for my behavior last night.” It had been inappropriate, on many counts. She’d spent much of the mission today trying to purge the image from her mind of Angela yielding beneath her weight, the firm pressure of her hips on the inside of her thighs.

Angela stared up at her now, eyes trailing slowly down Fareeha’s face. The doctor’s own face was unreadable. She then stood suddenly, pushing Fareeha aside, and touched a hand then to her earpiece. “What is everyone’s ETA?”

Fareeha studied the overlapping shapes of the Valkyrie’s spinal plate. Perhaps an apology was not enough to remedy her actions. She’d been _seriously_ out of line, no doubt, but she had hoped Angela wouldn’t report her for harassment or insubordination. She couldn’t exactly fault her if she did. She was just a fledgling Overwatch agent, after all, and Dr. Ziegler was a veteran. The doctor hadn't spent years of her life devoted to the organization to be pinned in her nightclothes under some half-naked rookie.

Their squad members all chimed in with varying times, all between fourteen and twenty minutes.

“Alright, see you soon. Tread carefully. Mercy out.” Her comm buzzed out, and she removed the earpiece, setting it down on the table. She looked at Fareeha.

“Angela, I’m sorry, what I did was out of line—”

She pushed Fareeha back into the table. She grabbed her by the shoulder and forced her to sit. Fareeha’s entire body fell slack under her dark gaze. The sudden shift in the mood felt almost tangible.

“We have fourteen minutes,” Angela murmured.

Fareeha’s heart trembled her chest.  Fourteen minutes. The things she could _do_ to Angela in fourteen minutes—

“You think too much,” Angela interrupted, not unkindly. She removed her halo and set it down beside her earpiece. She stood there in front of Fareeha expectantly. It was last night all over again, Angela with cheeks flushing, pupils dilating, waiting for Fareeha to make a decision.

Fareeha knew not to make the same bad decision twice. She seized Angela by the hips, eliciting a soft gasp from the doctor, and she lifted her with little effort until the tight-clad thighs straddled her lap. Angela studied her mouth intently. Fareeha tracked the movement of those blue eyes, watching the pupils contract and expand in the darkness. The doctor braced a gloved hand upon Fareeha’s pauldron and brought the other up Fareeha’s lips. She pushed one finger into her mouth, then another, watching with them with rapt interest. Fareeha groaned softly around the earthy taste of leather.

 “You asked me what I wanted last night,” Angela murmured, eyes never straying from her own fingers, and Fareeha watched her pretty pink lips move around her words, shivering at their smoky timbre, at the way they touched her ears like tongues of a flame.

Angela pulled her hand away then, and Fareeha pushed up to close what little distance remained, lips meeting with a gentle smack. She edged back enough to see Angela’s blonde brow knit before she pressed her mouth against Fareeha’s again, wrists locked at Fareeha’s nape. Angela’s lips moved against hers, lush and warm, hands grabbing fistfuls of her hair. Fareeha clutched her wide hips, afraid the doctor’s wings might carry her away.

Angela kissed her way from her lips, to her jaw, to her neck. She rolled down the black fabric of the flight suit before sucking at her pulse point with the careful precision of a doctor. Fareeha groaned Angela’s name into the woman’s shoulder, gripping her firm rear and dragging her even further up her lap, even closer against her body. She hated how far Raptora’s breastplate protruded. She needed to feel Angela flush against her, to know intimately what she would feel like through the thin fabric of that slip she’d worn the night before.

Fareeha pulled away with a sharp pant hearing the comm buzz in her ear. It was her mother. “Most of us are downstairs, Pharah. Might you open the door for your elders?”

She touched the earpiece, laughing breathlessly at her rotten luck. “Yes, ma’am. We will be down shortly.” She clicked it off and turned her attention to the radiant woman in her lap. Angela was gasping slightly, lips swollen, pupils blown. Fareeha liked knowing she made the ever-composed Dr. Ziegler look that way.

She slid off of Fareeha’s lap and patted her breastplate with a silly smile. This had all done little to remedy Fareeha’s frustration. It had only aggravated it further. She was sure Angela shared that sentiment from her playful huff of exasperation.

Fareeha chuckled. “I guess fourteen minutes wasn’t enough.”

Angela laughed as she adjusted her halo upon her head. “Truthfully, I hadn’t expected so much _kissing_.”

Fareeha collected her helmet from the other side of the room. “Sorry,” she said with a sheepish grin.

“No,” Angela said, as she clicked her earpiece into place, “I liked it.”

Fareeha put her helmet on in one swift motion, hiding the wild blush that blazed a trail across her face. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps you don’t have to read so much when we share a room next time.”

Angela raised a brow at her, smiling. “Perhaps.”


End file.
